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Body battered, hair shortened and burned, eyes forever closed, he hears a voice speak to him within his dreamless slumber. It doesn’t say very much, because it knows him. It knows that he isn’t stirred by overdramatic speeches, by indulgent fanfare, by the sound of pomp and circumstance. It knows him... and it knows that for something as simple as the sound of tears, he would listen.

The voice is familiar.

Her voice is familiar.

For something as simple as four words, he would listen.

Four words that resonate with his very being.

“Do the right thing,” she says.

He remembers...

It had snowed that morning, so long ago.

Someone had come to knock on his door, and they had gone to explore. They'd... they'd ended up in a library, with half of a goddess, and a wraith, and his best friend, looking at the countless books. There had been so many of them, beyond all imagining, and he had passed them all to look at the comics of his childhood.

But now, in his memory, something changes.

He takes a different path; his fingers trace a dusty spine.

He takes it off the shelf, and opens it, and reads.

It is a dialogue between two people, old and young, and he hears it in that voice so familiar yet so far away that it cannot be placed.

Two voices intertwine, one questioning, one answering, in a chain that stretches without end.

What is the heart?

The bearer of life.

Something begins to stir.

Something he had long forgotten for all the time he had spent here, beyond the reach of the stars, listening to the silence of the void.

He turns another page.

What is life?

Waiting for death.

He frowns in displeasure, and at once he is alone. There is no library anymore, no memory, nothing. He starts, looking around in the dark for something, anything, but nothing calls. All that is left is the man, and the book, and yet...

Somehow he is not afraid.

He turns another page.

What is death?

The thief of man.

This book is depressing, but it's been so long - so long - since he has dreamed anything that he is loathe to put it down. As it is with all dreams, he can't remember when he fell asleep. That memory, too, has been consigned to the dark, a sleep from which he cannot rise.

But in the back of his brain, he remembers a voice screaming in rebellion, howling alongside the souls of millions of others.

He hears her voice again.

Do the right thing.

His fingers pause along the page, hesitant as they wait at the corners; but he turns the page because he is beginning to realize that he cannot stop.

Every dreamer must one day wake.

What is man?

A passing traveler.

Yes.

Nothing lasts forever.

He knew that, didn't he? Wasn't that why he, above anyone else, had met her? Had made a contract with-

"______"

"Do the right thing."

Who was he?

Why was he here?

What was he doing?

In the millennia, in the years without end that he had drifted here, he had never asked. He had slumbered without pause, without cease - he had been nothing more than a shadow on the wall of a cave. A phantom of better times.

A ghost, adrift from the 'real'.

In the distance he sees a light. It is small, and pale, nothing more than a point on some false horizon, but as he stares it begins to rise. He - his name, the fact that he had a name was so close to his tongue - turned the page again, and again, something driving him to get to the end, to continue the story-

What is a traveler?

A bearer of the past; the language of the lost.

It reverberates in his skull like an evening bell, and he puts a hand to his head out of habit more than anything. In this world, he feels no pain or sorrow, but-

Why had he winced?

Why did he tremble so?

Wasn't he supposed to be doing something?

Wasn't someone calling his name?

What is language?

The herald of the soul.

Do the right thing.

What is the soul?

A candle in the wind.

A candle?

He begins to shudder, and surely, light was spreading, burning golden as it left the darkness in its wake-

A spark long dormant is brought to kindle once more.

Was his flame so weak that it could never rise again?

Was his heart so broken that it could no longer be mended?

Didn't he - didn't I - didn't we promise her that our bond would last forever?

He speaks into that onrush of light, the advent of the dawn, the purging of the self-

The voice of his companion.

"I am-"

The sun has set.

And it is time for it to rise again.

An unbreakable bond, a trust that could never be unfulfilled, a faith that could not be shattered…

The world burns black and gold, and I laugh with it, the light of day lifting me to my feet. Even my horrid luck has to throw me a bone sometimes, right?

I open my eyes, and with the rising of the sun severed hair grows back, wounds disappear, and... I flex the fingers of my shattered arm, whole again.

It feels good.

"We don't need that world to crush you! WE WON'T LET YOU ALL DO AS YOU'D PLEASE! DIE, FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYTHING!"

"Sorry to crush your dreams, but I'm back for good."

Isn't that right?

"And I'm not leaving."

Naglfar doesn't exist anymore. I can feel its absence, but it doesn't matter - the light of the dawn is still at my back, carrying me forward. I take a step, feeling what it means to walk again, and then another, and another, settling into a rhythm.

I remember it all now.

Every memory of my friends, of my loved ones, of my family. The bad, the good, the ugly, the mundane - I remember everything, coming back in one burst like the waves of the sea.

I instinctively know that I won't be pulling out any black holes, won't be using the shadows of the universe, won't be ripping apart the fabric of the world to strike at the Devourer.

And that's fine.

Because I've got Hel, right?

And everyone else who's at my side, present or not, dead or alive.

Kenji.

Maiya.

Kusumi.

Gisela.

Tomoya.

Mina.

They're here, running with me, and...

I remember the truth that I saw in my dream, even now, in Hel's voice as she spoke to me.

Nothing lasts forever.

I'm not gonna be around until the end of days, ESPer or not, champion or not, hero or not, but hell, did that ever matter to begin with?

I've been so afraid of death for so long that, somewhere along the way, I forgot about it entirely. That's why Hel races by my side, the Queen of the Dead herself.

Maybe that's what you need, to face death.

To accept that it'll never go away.

A name comes into my head, a name I never, ever would have called before. I knew it wouldn't have listened. I knew it wouldn't have cared. But now... Hel laughs with me, of one mind, and I can't resist.

I shout into the heart of the world.

I call upon thee!

Azrael-

-Angel of Death!

Last edited by Mooncake; January 13th, 2019 at 02:18 AM.

[12:37] <I3uster> if playing overwatch would save my mother from the deathbed[12:37] <I3uster> id probably flip a coin[12:38] <I3uster> to see if i play or not

The smiles of all the people I'm leaving behind -- the dreams that I've left shattered in my path -- the hopes that I've destroyed with my own demise --

I watch as the gates to the Sea of Souls seal shut, and I can see Hitoshira Kae smiling brightly at me from just past the wall.

"I'll take care of this one, so please, get some rest."

The words leave my mouth automatically, even though I'm dying. Even though everything's ended, and it's nobody's fault but my own. Lilith's soft hand gently finds mine as the night closes around us and...

I can't believe it.

So when my eyes open, I'm naturally surprised.

When I look once more upon the Devourer, I'm naturally confused. But somehow... In spite of it...

I'm smiling.

I'm so, so very happy that I get this last chance.

I'm so, so incredibly grateful that everyone let me have this one last shot.

So I have to make the most of it. This time... This place... It's really the end, isn't it? There's no second chances. No objections. No qualifiers.

"In this time, in this place... There's no way that we'll just fall down and die," as my body reforms, as my arm reforms, as an ax that masquerades itself as Death's own weapons cackles in my mind, "There's no possible world where we'll just allow you a victory."

Everything's gone. It's just us. It's just these sole few Espers, and as I look around, a brilliant smile forms on my face. So once more, for the last time, I carve open a hole between realities, and open the Shadow Vortex, staring deep into it.

"I don't have anything to offer you but a solemn offer of friendship, you know. One that I've offered many times before. So... would you mind so terribly if I asked for your help, this one last time?"

No objections.

No qualifiers.

No more words.

I hoist my ax on my back, feeling it's everpresent weight as power starts to coalesce around me. After all, I am nothing more then a vessel for everyone's emotions, so even if I don't have access to that incredible, raw, pure power that I held previously, that's fine. Because...

I'm the Queen of Demons.

I'm the Hero of Tokyo.

I, Hitoshira Nagi...

Am alive.

Hitoshira NagiAlive

I can't reach into the Sea of Souls. I can't claim ownership over this world like I did Nobody's. But even so --!!!

I still have something nobody else here has.

A bond that can't be broken. A soul that can't be destroyed.

"Ne ne, Yagami-san, let's do it one more time, yeah? That technique that can't be defeated, the one you showed me the very first time we met."

Lilith rises from my soul, drifting past me with a wink as she prepares something I've never seen before, a swirl of unstoppable, incredible power that she holds in her veins, her very core. This is what she is, the Mother of Humanity.

This is my demon.

The world twists around me as her power grows and grows, a tapestry of light and darkness that surrounds the woman next to me, a complete and total force that I've never seen her use before. Even though Lilith has always stood by me in times of trouble, in my own strife, she's never been the type of person to throw her entire being into an attack. Although, to be fair...

That's the sort of person I am, as well. We're a perfect match.

I adjust the grip on my ax, a wide, wide grin covering my face. "So let's show it to her, this Devourer of Time. The power of an unbreakable bond, y'know?"

Light breaks.

I'm no longer a member of this place.

Invisibility is a concept that has rarely been discussed among the rational body of the world. It's ridiculous; the idea that anyone can 'simply disappear'. But the power of Yagami's absolute illusions is as such.

I am not here.

It's a trick of the mind, to use Yagami's illusions - the ability to delude yourself so deeply that reality itself is deluded alongside you. But that's the kind of person I am. The kind of delusional maniac who wields an axe that carries the weight of all those who came before it, with a demon who lied her name into slumber.

Movement.

It's a dash.

Absolutely rebellious, even as I feel the emotions of everyone pouring into me.

Absolutely insane, even as I feel the weight of everyone's hopes on my back.

But that's who I am. That's Hitoshira Nagi.

So even when I approach --

It's an unstoppable sort of blow.

A blow from someone who isn't part of this world.

A blow from someone who only re-enters this world for a moment, vanishing into the shadows shortly after.

There's always been more to my ESP then simply emotions and strength. I've just never had reason to use it. I lived a shadowed existence for so long --

Is it any wonder that I can drape them around me like a cloak?

Last edited by Frantic Author; January 12th, 2019 at 09:21 PM.

in the end we will make thoughtcrime impossible, for there shall be no words to express it

It was all thanks to the one God of Time who had sacrificed his everything for the sake of the girl he loved. In a way, the Knight felt both bitter and slightly proud of his decision. Not because he had decided to sacrifice his life in order to end the dream, not because he had merged with the Administrator in order to bring them to the actual reality... but because he had done what he believed was right. Might for right. To use the power given to you for the sake of those who had no power. To the Knight, that truly was a deed he could respect. Respect... and mourn. Once this was over, and if he still existed after it... he would raise a glass of his own, in the dead of the night, for the God of Time.

Because he deserved his respect more than anything.

He, if anyone, had wanted to save Chiyoko. He, if anyone, had wanted to see the girl smile. He, if anyone, had wanted to save her dream.

------------- To the point of sacrificing himself for it.

And that's why the Knight felt bitter.

Chronos deserved more. He deserved a happy ending with the girl he loved.

He deserved to see the new tomorrow with Chiyoko.

"Yours was a star shining so bright, tomorrow will feel your soft light," The Knight quietly spoke. "Your sacrifice is not in vain, I promise to carry your pain. We have heard your whispered wish, the chance for morn we shall not miss."

All around them, the world was becoming whole. Those who had been lost were returning. Those who had been denied of their chance to fight were given another lease in battle. Those who had sacrificed themselves for nothing could now try again. It was not a reality of mud and curses, but one that shone with Xanadu's light --- the sword once again being its own self again. The Knight stared at the sword, an unreadable expression with his blue-and-red eye. The helmet hid his expression, and it was impossible to tell what went through his head... but it was clear that he came to some sort of decision. Some sort of answer.

Because as the world began to move again... as those defeated ran forward once more... so too did the Knight begin to move.

But not in a way that anybody could have expected.

"I see this is thy final choice, you shall walk away from this voice. Even this dream must come to end, for the waking world to be mend," The Knight spoke solemnly. "Dream or not we art one and same, in the myth we share more than name. I applaud you O' Son of Naught, for the battle that you have fought."

As the reality of the Time Devourer faded away... so too did their powers.

But even before that could truly take place, or rather, before that could register in the mind of the Knight... he did something unthinkable. Within his silvered, hornet helmet, a smile appeared on his face. A smile that was slightly sad, slightly melancholic, slightly happy... and nothing if not hopeful. It was the smile of someone who knew that he had reached his end. He had nothing after this. Indeed, for he was the Son of Naught. From the beginning he had nothing. No power, no ability, no legend. Everything he got he had to take with his own hands.

Like a white dragon of a myth.

Thus, as the army of opponents faced the Administrator and stared it down, as they shot it down, as they struck it down, as they ran forward to oppose it from here to eternity... The Knight relaxed his hands.

First...

----------- He cast aside his Factors.

Even if they no longer worked, they were a memory from a reality, a dream that he wished not to return to. They were a power copied from an enemy he wished not to mimic. It was a gift that was not his own, and thus, the Knight let go of the power that had been granted to him, even if it was truly gone by the time he did. In the end, it was more of a symbolical expression.

Second.

----------- He cast aside his Eclipse State.

The sea of souls was not the same, it no longer held the vast amount of wishes and dreams that it once had. This was a new world and he could no longer rely on it. From now on, he would have to search for new wishes and dreams. He would have to look forward to the future and listen to the children of the tomorrow for what they wished with all their heart.

Third.----------- He cast aside his Grail Sword.

The largest star of the reality, power made real by one Saki Ryuumonbuchi, was thrown aside with clear intent. The blade of starlight flickered and faded away, becoming nothing. In that moment as the Knight let go of the handle, the sword ceased to truly be. He was thankful for it. It was responsible for him being able to make it so far. Without Saki, the Knight would have fallen long ago.

Fourth.

----------- He cast aside his Magatsuhi.

Red energy, strands of godhood itself and purpose that could remake the world, flowed out of him. They became simple red strings that were eventually erased by the world itself. He had no more use of them. They had served him well so far, but the Knight knew that they would only get in the way. After all, this sort of power, this selfish desire to remake the world... he no longer cared none for it. It was time for that power to go.

Fifth.

----------- He cast aside his Chrysaor.

Without a second glance he threw the sword to the side, allowing it to turn into pure lightning that it was always meant to be. His brother's soul was not meant to exist in such way, trapped within a will of a blade aimed at his enemies. That soul was meant to be free, just a soul of any human. The sword and the will had served their purpose. They had helped him more than he could ever thank them for. Thus, this was the time to say goodbye.

Sixth.

----------- He cast aside his Armor.

The silver-horned helmet melted away, as did the crimson finery adorning the mithril plate that covered him from head to toe. What was revealed from behind was the form of a young man, the one he had always been. Lithe, strong, muscular... the body of a fighter. The body he had trusted so far. The armor had been the form of the knight. But now that dream had come to an end. He needed to wake up in the reality. In other words... he needed to shed his outer shell.

Seventh.

----------- He cast aside his Knighthood.

The nameless knight he had been was no more. The legend he had been was no more. The union of two myths that were so similar to each other that they had become indistinguishable had ended. What waited behind all that legend was naught but the same youth that was revealed behind the armor. There was nothing legendary about him. There was nothing mythical about him. He was just someone who had ended up all the way in here, someone that had happened to be right person to this job. He no longer pretended to be anything else than what he was.

Eight.

----------- He cast aside his scales.

That white glory beneath his skin floated away, becoming petals that filled the air. Poison that could take down gods had finally been given the order to rest. The scales of the argent dragon had served their purpose, and no longer would they be needed. They had protected their wearer this far, they had helped him stay alive, they had kept him safe. What more reason was there to keep them here, in this moment? The platinum scales that they were, they had deserved their rest.

Ninth.

----------- He cast aside his ESP.

The power to wound and hurt anyone who came in touch with him, to bring poison within those that wishes to be close to him... he had no need for it. He was no longer afraid of others. He had learned that in this life, one needed others as much as they needed him. Even if he got hurt, he could grin and bear it. If he wanted to be one worthy of the words he had said to the God of Chaos, he needed to learn how to let people close. Thus, he ill-needed a power that only served to keep a distance between him and other people. If for nothing else than for the sake of a red dragon.

And.

Tenth.

Finally.

----------- He cast aside his Xanadu.

Tossing aside the sword like it had been a toy he had grown tired of, decidedly casually and with an expression that told while he was grateful, he had also made a decision... he let go of the sword of dreams. He understood it now. It was a sword of dreams, capable of actualizing them... but that was not a power that could be even called special. No. Every single being in this world had the power to actualize their dreams if they put their everything to it. And as that was what he was doing right now... he had no need for the sword.

No, there was more to it than that.

He simply...

... Didn't want to do this with the hand-me-downs of a Messiah he so despised.

Not because he himself was not a Messiah.

No, it was because while he was not a Messiah, he was someone who dedicated his everything to saving people.

And he finally understood the difference of a savior and a Messiah.

"... For the sake of everything?"

A small smile floated to his lips.

"Unfortunately... we, too, are part of that everything."

A person looking at this from the sidelines could have wondered, could have asked, why he had put aside his everything, even if only for a moment. Even if all that he cast aside would one day return, like a tiger unable to shed its stripes... why had he gotten rid of it all at this moment, this last possible moment? Wasn't this the exact moment that he needed all the power he could get?

No.

That was slightly wrong.

Everyone was capable of actualizing dreams, either ones coming from themselves or ones coming from others.

They just had to put their minds to it.

In other words.

For what was about to happen, he needed all the empty space within himself that he could find. For the moment, he needed to make himself into an absolute void so that it could be filled to the brim. Because he knew what was coming. He heard it. He heard those wishes. He heard it all. Every single last dream that had been uttered within those 46 billion years of looping time.

He took in all those dreams so that he could make them real.

Mikagura Mika.

Jacques Dussault.

Saki Ryuumonbuchi.

Zerah Meir.

Adala Lagerkvist.

Liane Cross.

Tony Redgrave.

Yamuna.

Ryuichi.

Dr. Matsuda.

Noriko.

Aleph.

Yuka.

Kazuya.

Red.

Fifteen Wishes.

Add to that the 46 billion years that their tale had looped.

Every single soul within that twisting, spiraling tale... and every single dream and wish they had made, all for the sake of reaching this moment when they could finally break free of the fate reserved for them. This was the moment that they had all been waiting for... and this was their one and only chance. In other words, all those that he knew... and all those that wanted the same thing as they did. Those innumerable times that had been lived for the sake of this moment.

Every single one of the people he loved.

And every single one of the people he wished to protect.

All across the 46 billion years.

He took in their wishes.

Every single wish.

32,397,839,000,000,000,000

That was the number of wishes made. Over 30 quintillion.

And he became conduit for them all.

Not because of Xanadu.

But because there was one more sword left.

The final sword.

Medrod Pendragon

EXCALIBUR

In the end, it was very simple.

He was someone who wanted to make the dreams, hopes and wishes of others come true. Therefore, something like a Xanadu was a crutch to him from the very beginning. It was something that Zerah had wielded a long time ago, a weapon of destruction that would make dreams through with its blade, an instrument of death. So, if he wanted to do this his own way, without bringing death into the mix... Medrod had to find his own path. This was the path he had found. This was the path he would walk down.

"You heard me the first time, right?" He asked from the Administrator, staring it down without fear.

"I'm just a simple man..." He said, but then, a crooked smile appeared on his voice. "... And I'm just a simple sword."

He had finally found what he really was.

Here.

At the end of everything.

No, at the beginning of everything.

It was here, powered by over 30 quintillion wishes, that Medrod finally realized his own dream.

His first dream. His first wish. His first hope.

---------------- To save everyone.

"And you know what else?"

With a confident step, the young man set forward, heading straight to the Mass of Humanity that had masqueraded as a God, trying to set their rules upon this reality after the tragic ending they had reached. He hesitated none, walking calmly but surely towards his target. Medrod knew that this was the time that all of them would have to give it their all, and as blows from another side of the world were delivered, as angels of death were called, as giants of flame were summoned, as the humanity as a whole set forward to rebuke the Time Devourer... Medrod made his move as well.

Freedom is descending, sinking, falling even further “in.” Letting pain blur into an indistinguishable feeling of sensation at the loss of self. It would be easy to let it all happen. I brought this upon myself.

I thought I was strongest alone. Losing others hurt. Being connected with others hurt. To spare myself from pain, I cut myself off from everyone else. An isolated island, relying on the strength of one’s conviction to carry themselves throughout life.

But the self is only one amongst many. It is weak alone.

This is what I deserve for rejecting the gifts offered to me.

“Don’t tell me you’re really thinking of scooping now.”

A voice.

Familiar, yet not. Her voice has a cool tone, but it’s comforting, like the breeze of a fan on a hot summer’s day. The sound of someone reliable, who could protect you from the world’s ills.

A protector, perhaps?

She says some more things, but I can’t hear them at all, drowned out underneath the haze of hatred and disgust, despair and revulsion, envy and rage. But despite all of this endless, incomprehensible noise, those sounds reach out to me nonetheless.

Make me remember.

Of a dream that lasted for eons, of endless hardship and toil. An abyss of time where I’ve failed and suffered beyond compare. They always die, and I struggle to find the truth, make amends, for so many times it all blurs into indistinguishable fact. I repeat many mistakes over and over, repeat them until I drive myself to ruin. In that dream, I spend many moments like this, adrift in hell.

Yet, despite all those things, at the end of that dream, I am not alone. There are people I’ve slighted, I’ve hurt, but they stand by my side all the same. There are enemies I’ve once hated that I grudgingly respect. There is a family waiting for me.

In that dream, I am happy.

That fleeting dream… is something I want to hold on to above all else.

I drag my hand through thick tar, resisting the urge to go limp and descend, trying to reach out for something beyond my grasp.

But just because I can’t reach it on my own

—hands grab mine, tight with worry and care—

doesn’t mean I can’t get there with a little help.

“I told you I would find you.”

In the depths of humanity’s worst emotions, I can’t help but laugh in relief.

She truly is a guardian deity.

Mikagura Mika
The Final Battle

Genbu drags me out of the concentration of curses, unrelenting in her determination, and I surface, feeling as if I’ve been cleansed of over a thousand burdens. I may feel tired and exhausted but none of it is comparable to the distinct, exhilarating feeling that I am alive, that I exist, and that most importantly, I still have a chance to reclaim that dream. That at the end of it all, reality has been kind enough to give me an opportunity where I can dictate the future. In this reality, flawed as it may be—

Fate has no meaning. Destiny is ours to take.

Those thoughts are enough to force me up on my feet, only for my demon to hand me a blade, forged within a falsehood, yet all too real. As I grasp Beacon it all comes flooding back, strength I thought I had lost, the understanding of what Chronos did. In the end, what I had prepared was unneeded and returned to me in the hopes I could do something useful.

While I can’t say I liked that God of Time, or if I’d ever forgive him… I certainly don’t hate him.

[Oracle Think Tank restored.]

[Akashic Record access denied.]

[Utilizing data from previous backup… Estimated loss of data based off of broken connections is roughly between 20% to 35%.]

[Akashic Record storage accessed.]

“Find the others… I have something I need to do first.” Nami and Sora, of course, but Liane would work too. I’d like for her to see I still have her gift. Three bullets, never fired, chambered in Beacon. My COMP seamlessly transitions from blade to gun in my hands, because there’s no longer a need for a godslaying blade. The opponent is the pinnacle of human, emotionally driven when the odds are against them. And, as bitter as it is to say, there’s only one reason why firearms were invented.

I take careful aim. Not to miss, but to make sure this attack in particular intersects them all. So that everyone’s efforts could be pulled together into one, uniform whole.

Three.

Two.

One.

[Feb/Wed/04|07:00:04] <Lianru> it's ok with each stalker call I feel like we get a little closer
[Feb/Wed/04|07:00:06] <Lianru> never give up

Roaring, the sound of a flame I can no longer hear. Red and hungry it strips away everything, my life, my mind, this is my defeat. This is my death.

[H…………….…Lose……………………………………………...…………Defeated.….]

Grasping, the sensation of the mud that drags everything to its doom. The flame roars the mud grasps and we drown ourselves.

I’ve died.

I’ve died.

I’ve died.

I’ve died

The registration of the vestigial sensation plays over and over in what is left of my mind. My defeat, my death. Give in, give in, give in, there’s no point to trying. After all, when have my efforts ever paid off?

[How………….…Lose………………to……something………you…Defeated….]

I wonder… If I had a mouth would I laugh at it all?

As I slip deeper and deeper into this forsaken sea a part of me pulls me downward faster, all to embrace oblivion all the soon. Yet a part of me resists, this hell is what I choose and what I deserve isn’t it. Red Flames of hatred, black Ichor of resentment our poisoned cup filled to the brim and overflowing.

The futility of a life flashing before my eyes in burnt out cinematography washes over me like an acid tide. Bitter and strong it picks apart the false phantasms of hope and carries them away to their abyssal grave. Where once my dreams took root, spread their arms and grew to embrace the sky only blighted defeat lingers. Why wouldn’t others curse this hollow self of mine? I gave up on them after all. The home I abandoned, the people I pushed away and the feelings I couldn’t give up on. Accursed stubbornness, twisted pride. I would scream until my throat rents itself bloody and raw or maybe I would rampage until my body broke under the weight of my cowardly self.

[How can …….lose to something like ………………..you just defeated it]

How infuriating I can almost hear voice full of warmth.

How beguiling I can almost see a face smiling at me.

How maddening I can almost feel a warm hand holding mine.

Ha haha ha… No peace granted even in death how… truly fitting. Dreams of swords piercing my flesh dreams of happy days I’ve never seen. Perched on the edge of oblivion an ephemeral dying dream haunts what little Is left of me in the mud. Things I’ve never seen, happy ends I can never reach hover over me like a taunting reaper.

Its like I can almost hear a voice.

As if I can almost hear a voice…

[How can you lose to something like this, when you just defeated it]

“Mmm five more minutes meanie Sensei.”

.

..

…

Strange…

Strange, strange, strange…

A voice I shouldn’t be able to hear, a voice I shouldn’t know is answered by a response I can’t give and one I can’t understand.

Who…

Who are you and… why, why can I see this?

Makoto Fujioka, it is the name of a worthless person. Discontent with life yet never able to provide a better answer. He chose pride and his inability to push past his stubbornness drove everyone around him away. In the end, he was never able to speak his true feelings and reach out to the hands that were offered and so he died a worthless death when he had no choice but to march to a battle he could win alone.

Makoto Fujioka, it is an almost ironic name for a worthless person, it is my name and yet…

Why is it also his?

Spilling out before me is a world I can’t understand. There is a boy stubborn and idiotic yet honest and despite all the mistakes and missteps, he reaches out towards others who respond in kind. A dream of swords, sincerity, brilliant feelings and happy endings which I could never realize.

Impossible. Everything I’ve known tells me the brilliant world that fills my soul is a beguiling falsehood yet I hunger for it all the same. I could never, I perhaps should never grasp such a thing yet my hesitations are mocked as a hand forcefully grasps mine and drags me forward.

“How cruel Sensei, making a dying person get to his feet. A real slave driver you know…”

If you had asked me before about if a soul could cry, I’d laugh and dismiss it as idiotic but… I’m crying right now, aren’t I?

Mmm I think I’ll just pretend it’s the rain.

Perched on the edge of oblivion, witnessing a dream I could never attain and facing an opponent I can’t even imagine myself beating who would love nothing more than to see us all return to nothing.

“I can’t say that I ever saw this stupid joke of a situation coming.”

I don’t believe in myself and I’m sure I don’t deserve it but some part of me still wants to reach that happy ending and, well…

Sensei, Kyoto, Ane-san.

With my hands being grasped this tightly I don’t think I’m going to have much choice in the matter.

“Thank you.”

My voice is weak and unsteady as I turn away to hide the faint blush staining my cheeks.

This is one of those times where its best to just give in and go with the flow isn’t it.

Maybe it’s the influence of that other self-staining me but force once I manage to push past that thoughtless stubbornness and imprisoning pride to accept the hands offered and the self-indulgence laid before me.

A bright and blue world full of smiling faces.

An impossible paradise of happy endings.

“So nothing left to do but win huh?”

What a strange sense of invigorating calm. I want to fight and yet I don’t even have a wea-

“My sleepiness seems to have made us late huh but I despite all the mistakes I’ve made in this world and that I want to ask two things of you. One, please follow my lead and two… I want… Mmm this is a bit embarrassing but Sensei, Kyoto, and Ane-san I’m sure I’ll make plenty of mistakes in the future but I don’t want to let go.”

Closing my eyes for a moment I can feel the hesitation and fear of my old self mingle with the feelings of my new. Even in that dream, I was afraid, afraid of being hurt, of being denied. Yet in that very dream, I found an answer, things will end, things will hurt but even then endings are just beginnings to grasp what I want I first need to extend my hand.

“So please don’t let go of my hand even if it was a dream, I want to make it a reality. That world and my feelings.”

I love you… I love you all. You all, the Nakamura’s, Aika, everyone. I love you like family and I love you like a beloved. I want to laugh, smile, joke and bathe in your brilliant radiance. It was so warm in that dream. Friendship and affection caressed my cheek like a gentle wind while rivalry and desire burned my chest like a red-hot glowing sword ready to be quenched.

Ah…

Truly, truly, truly, I truly love you. My heart feels like it will burst. My skull feels like it will overflow these tempestuous emotions are as wicked as they are wonderful. The form of a perfect curse, now that I’ve come to know what its like it eats away at me with a maddening frenzy and yet in the same heartbeat that gives these desires life I know peace. It might not be quick, it might not be elegant, it might not be perfect but these bonds will not break until we have all wasted away into nothingness.

Sorry, you found an answer that I can’t call wrong and maybe time will even prove ours to be foolish and wrong but-

Analyzing the battlefield, I skirt the edges and prepare.

Extending my open hand I curl my thumb inward.

-But I will not turn my back on the answer we found thanks to you. Acceptance, understanding, empathy, connection. These things may yet still drive us to ruin but I will entrust my self to them with no reservations.

Remember that dream, realize its answer.

I curl my index finger inwards.

The maddening desire stained by malice was a curse. It drove me to do things I can’t forgive it countless times. It reduced me to a monster unable to recognize or interact with the world around me unless it was on the edge of a sword. Yet it has saved me all the same.

It taught me that as long as I don’t abandon my faith even my worthless self can be refined.

My soul is a crucible for my mind and body, embrace the furnace and hammer the blade. Gather my strength, strain my body to its limits. My limits are born of the doubts and weaknesses within me, hammer it until nothing remains.

I curl my middle finger inwards.

Opening myself to the opponent before me I must embrace them, understand everything about it. Create, destroy, recreate again and again no matter how long it takes I must continue following the path this faith creates. My opponent is a human dredge up every last memory and intake every sight before me. Focus, focus, focus this desire. The emotions swirling in my heart will be my engine to soar beyond the horizon. My mind will be the whetstone that grinds away the shackles that bind me. My body will be the sword that cleaves those who would destroy our dreams.

I curl my ring finger inwards.

The stars feel as distant as they look but I remain undaunted by the singleness of my existence. I am no longer alone, I am no longer lost. Even if they are invisible, I know the bonds we share are still there. Even though I am nothing more than a human I have learned just how far we can go. Even though I am the same fool I’ve always been I have learned just what my faith and determination can give birth to.

I curl my pinky inwards and clench my now compete fist.

Despise me, curse me, rend me to pieces all you want but I will not stop and I will not let this dream go.

Sorry but this me is just a bit less kind than the me that you knew.

Within the whirling storm that our defiance creates I spy the chance that I've been seeking from this blind spot.

A sad fool who dreamt that he could cut down his weakness.

A girl who dreamt that she could outrun the suffering of the world.

A scientist who would ignore herself to chase the truth.

A goddess who chose to live as a human.

Even though our souls are no longer connected the bonds of our heart still exist and so we choose to fight. For our dreams, for the world, we once knew.

Charging the enemy, we must beat at all costs I can feel myself smile. I wonder how long has it been since I’ve smiled from the bottom of my heart. Years at least. Trapped in a prison of my own making I strangled my dreams and consigned myself to hopelessness.

That ends now.

Dreams are powerless insubstantial products of our imaginations but through them, we learn just how and why we should act and actions are the methodology for how we change the reality around us. I dreamt of a sword that was free from the weaknesses that plagued me, a sword that could cut down everything that I desire, a sword that could realize the happiness that I’ve always craved yet could never find. In this fist, that dream will be made a reality.

In my fist burns the deepest crimson of every scrap of power I can gather and then some.

In my fist burns the drowning azure of all 46 billion years worth of dreams and resolve that I found.

In my fist burns the silver steel of the bonds that have become intertwined with my soul.

This sword will cut down our fate, this hand will grasp the tomorrow that we imagine.

In age-old synchronization I, Kyoto, Ane-san and Sensei execute our attack straight into the Devourers blindspot. Rile yourself up all you want but these bodies of ours have so many weaknesses so to live another day we’re going to sucker punch yours.

Kenῡndo: Acta est fabula, et ibimus in vitam.

The story might be done but we will make sure our lives continue SO TAKE A GODDAMN NAP. You can judge us when you wake up you goddamn workaholic.

Heh what do you know I still remember some of those dumb latin lessons.

Roaring, the sound of a flame I can no longer hear. Red and hungry it strips away everything, my life, my mind, this is my defeat. This is my death.

[H…………….…Lose……………………………………………...…………Defeated.….]

Grasping, the sensation of the mud that drags everything to its doom. The flame roars the mud grasps and we drown ourselves.

I’ve died.

I’ve died.

I’ve died.

I’ve died

The registration of the vestigial sensation plays over and over in what is left of my mind. My defeat, my death. Give in, give in, give in, there’s no point to trying. After all, when have my efforts ever paid off?

[How………….…Lose………………to……something………you…Defeated….]

I wonder… If I had a mouth would I laugh at it all?

As I slip deeper and deeper into this forsaken sea a part of me pulls me downward faster, all to embrace oblivion all the soon. Yet a part of me resists, this hell is what I choose and what I deserve isn’t it. Red Flames of hatred, black Ichor of resentment our poisoned cup filled to the brim and overflowing.

The futility of a life flashing before my eyes in burnt out cinematography washes over me like an acid tide. Bitter and strong it picks apart the false phantasms of hope and carries them away to their abyssal grave. Where once my dreams took root, spread their arms and grew to embrace the sky only blighted defeat lingers. Why wouldn’t others curse this hollow self of mine? I gave up on them after all. The home I abandoned, the people I pushed away and the feelings I couldn’t give up on. Accursed stubbornness, twisted pride. I would scream until my throat rents itself bloody and raw or maybe I would rampage until my body broke under the weight of my cowardly self.

[How can …….lose to something like ………………..you just defeated it]

How infuriating I can almost hear voice full of warmth.

How beguiling I can almost see a face smiling at me.

How maddening I can almost feel a warm hand holding mine.

Ha haha ha… No peace granted even in death how… truly fitting. Dreams of swords piercing my flesh dreams of happy days I’ve never seen. Perched on the edge of oblivion an ephemeral dying dream haunts what little Is left of me in the mud. Things I’ve never seen, happy ends I can never reach hover over me like a taunting reaper.

Its like I can almost hear a voice.

As if I can almost hear a voice…

[How can you lose to something like this, when you just defeated it]

“Mmm five more minutes meanie Sensei.”

.

..

…

Strange…

Strange, strange, strange…

A voice I shouldn’t be able to hear, a voice I shouldn’t know is answered by a response I can’t give and one I can’t understand.

Who…

Who are you and… why, why can I see this?

Makoto Fujioka, it is the name of a worthless person. Discontent with life yet never able to provide a better answer. He chose pride and his inability to push past his stubbornness drove everyone around him away. In the end, he was never able to speak his true feelings and reach out to the hands that were offered and so he died a worthless death when he had no choice but to march to a battle he could win alone.

Makoto Fujioka, it is an almost ironic name for a worthless person, it is my name and yet…

Why is it also his?

Spilling out before me is a world I can’t understand. There is a boy stubborn and idiotic yet honest and despite all the mistakes and missteps, he reaches out towards others who respond in kind. A dream of swords, sincerity, brilliant feelings and happy endings which I could never realize.

Impossible. Everything I’ve known tells me the brilliant world that fills my soul is a beguiling falsehood yet I hunger for it all the same. I could never, I perhaps should never grasp such a thing yet my hesitations are mocked as a hand forcefully grasps mine and drags me forward.

“How cruel Sensei, making a dying person get to his feet. A real slave driver you know…”

If you had asked me before about if a soul could cry, I’d laugh and dismiss it as idiotic but… I’m crying right now, aren’t I?

Mmm I think I’ll just pretend it’s the rain.

Perched on the edge of oblivion, witnessing a dream I could never attain and facing an opponent I can’t even imagine myself beating who would love nothing more than to see us all return to nothing.

“I can’t say that I ever saw this stupid joke of a situation coming.”

I don’t believe in myself and I’m sure I don’t deserve it but some part of me still wants to reach that happy ending and, well…

Sensei, Kyoto, Ane-san.

With my hands being grasped this tightly I don’t think I’m going to have much choice in the matter.

“Thank you.”

My voice is weak and unsteady as I turn away to hide the faint blush staining my cheeks.

This is one of those times where its best to just give in and go with the flow isn’t it.

Maybe it’s the influence of that other self-staining me but force once I manage to push past that thoughtless stubbornness and imprisoning pride to accept the hands offered and the self-indulgence laid before me.

A bright and blue world full of smiling faces.

An impossible paradise of happy endings.

“So nothing left to do but win huh?”

What a strange sense of invigorating calm. I want to fight and yet I don’t even have a wea-

“My sleepiness seems to have made us late huh but I despite all the mistakes I’ve made in this world and that I want to ask two things of you. One, please follow my lead and two… I want… Mmm this is a bit embarrassing but Sensei, Kyoto, and Ane-san I’m sure I’ll make plenty of mistakes in the future but I don’t want to let go.”

Closing my eyes for a moment I can feel the hesitation and fear of my old self mingle with the feelings of my new. Even in that dream, I was afraid, afraid of being hurt, of being denied. Yet in that very dream, I found an answer, things will end, things will hurt but even then endings are just beginnings to grasp what I want I first need to extend my hand.

“So please don’t let go of my hand even if it was a dream, I want to make it a reality. That world and my feelings.”

I love you… I love you all. You all, the Nakamura’s, Aika, everyone. I love you like family and I love you like a beloved. I want to laugh, smile, joke and bathe in your brilliant radiance. It was so warm in that dream. Friendship and affection caressed my cheek like a gentle wind while rivalry and desire burned my chest like a red-hot glowing sword ready to be quenched.

Ah…

Truly, truly, truly, I truly love you. My heart feels like it will burst. My skull feels like it will overflow these tempestuous emotions are as wicked as they are wonderful. The form of a perfect curse, now that I’ve come to know what its like it eats away at me with a maddening frenzy and yet in the same heartbeat that gives these desires life I know peace. It might not be quick, it might not be elegant, it might not be perfect but these bonds will not break until we have all wasted away into nothingness.

Sorry, you found an answer that I can’t call wrong and maybe time will even prove ours to be foolish and wrong but-

Analyzing the battlefield, I skirt the edges and prepare.

Extending my open hand I curl my thumb inward.

-But I will not turn my back on the answer we found thanks to you. Acceptance, understanding, empathy, connection. These things may yet still drive us to ruin but I will entrust my self to them with no reservations.

Remember that dream, realize its answer.

I curl my index finger inwards.

The maddening desire stained by malice was a curse. It drove me to do things I can’t forgive it countless times. It reduced me to a monster unable to recognize or interact with the world around me unless it was on the edge of a sword. Yet it has saved me all the same.

It taught me that as long as I don’t abandon my faith even my worthless self can be refined.

My soul is a crucible for my mind and body, embrace the furnace and hammer the blade. Gather my strength, strain my body to its limits. My limits are born of the doubts and weaknesses within me, hammer it until nothing remains.

I curl my middle finger inwards.

Opening myself to the opponent before me I must embrace them, understand everything about it. Create, destroy, recreate again and again no matter how long it takes I must continue following the path this faith creates. My opponent is a human dredge up every last memory and intake every sight before me. Focus, focus, focus this desire. The emotions swirling in my heart will be my engine to soar beyond the horizon. My mind will be the whetstone that grinds away the shackles that bind me. My body will be the sword that cleaves those who would destroy our dreams.

I curl my ring finger inwards.

The stars feel as distant as they look but I remain undaunted by the singleness of my existence. I am no longer alone, I am no longer lost. Even if they are invisible, I know the bonds we share are still there. Even though I am nothing more than a human I have learned just how far we can go. Even though I am the same fool I’ve always been I have learned just what my faith and determination can give birth to.

I curl my pinky inwards and clench my now compete fist.

Despise me, curse me, rend me to pieces all you want but I will not stop and I will not let this dream go.

Sorry but this me is just a bit less kind than the me that you knew.

Within the whirling storm that our defiance creates I spy the chance that I've been seeking from this blind spot.

A sad fool who dreamt that he could cut down his weakness.

A girl who dreamt that she could outrun the suffering of the world.

A scientist who would ignore herself to chase the truth.

A goddess who chose to live as a human.

Even though our souls are no longer connected the bonds of our heart still exist and so we choose to fight. For our dreams, for the world, we once knew.

Charging the enemy, we must beat at all costs I can feel myself smile. I wonder how long has it been since I’ve smiled from the bottom of my heart. Years at least. Trapped in a prison of my own making I strangled my dreams and consigned myself to hopelessness.

That ends now.

Dreams are powerless insubstantial products of our imaginations but through them, we learn just how and why we should act and actions are the methodology for how we change the reality around us. I dreamt of a sword that was free from the weaknesses that plagued me, a sword that could cut down everything that I desire, a sword that could realize the happiness that I’ve always craved yet could never find. In this fist, that dream will be made a reality.

In my fist burns the deepest crimson of every scrap of power I can gather and then some.

In my fist burns the drowning azure of all 46 billion years worth of dreams and resolve that I found.

In my fist burns the silver steel of the bonds that have become intertwined with my soul.

This sword will cut down our fate, this hand will grasp the tomorrow that we imagine.

In age-old synchronization I, Kyoto, Ane-san and Sensei execute our attack straight into the Devourers blindspot. Rile yourself up all you want but these bodies of ours have so many weaknesses so to live another day we’re going to sucker punch yours.

Kenῡndo: Acta est fabula, et ibimus in vitam.

The story might be done but we will make sure our lives continue SO TAKE A GODDAMN NAP. You can judge us when you wake up you goddamn workaholic.

Heh what do you know I still remember some of those dumb latin lessons.

There wasn't anything she could still say. She simply had been caught up in her own hubris. To think that she could match something that had discarded its weakness like this, to create a border that would exclude anybody that chose the same path...
It might have been a beautiful dream. The consensus between a woman that was not quite a human and a god that was not quite that...a vision that could've made them all happy.

But a dream remains a dream. If it does not inspire action, then this is as far as she could take it.

Sometimes you try your hardest and your hardest will not be enough. That was the cruelty of reality that she had felt all her life. To do something that went beyond your own limits and then still did not achieve what you set out to do, was in the end still a failure. An admirable one perhaps, but the consequences remained the same.

There was no way for her to make out Chronos' mumbling in the assault of information that she had been under permanently since opening the gate.

All she knew was that this wasn't enough.

As if to accentuate her failure, the last thing the girl felt as the world around her finally ceased to be was the choir of billions in disharmony.

Maybe the weakness that the Devourer discarded had been a weakness after all. Its supposed strengths not as amazing as she had hoped.

As her very own paradise was extinguished in an instant, Suzume felt nothing but regret.
There was but a single light shining in all of this darkness.

"You're being purretty hard on yourself."

Something that she had thought unbreakable snapped.

-----

"It's a passing grade. D-. You just think of everything that doesn't go your way to be a failure right? I think that might be the the other side of being such a loser all your life..."

A voice that seemed strangely chipper, even taunting.

"...so accustomed to losing that you get a mixed bag of success and failure and all you see are the terrible, terrible bits that tell you what you already know about yourself...but it's not too as long as you keep it in here. After all this is but a dream. And a dream only matters when it inspires action, right?"

-----

AogamiMostly Hungry

It was an awe inspiring sight. Of all the ranks of demons, the highest exalted and the lowest of the low, all of them reached out to the ones that had bonded to them. Out of a sense of obligation, of duty, to follow those that put them in their place as well as those that showed them the beauty of an unfettered existence...

Their motives did not matter. They all reached out, dug through the dirt and rabble that they had accumulated. It was no longer a pure consideration of their value as it might have once been. They weren't cattle...nor where they exactly "equals" either, but there was a sense of a bond regardless, even among the most unfazed and cruel of them.

It was a concept that to her was a lot more intuitive than to most other demons, perhaps because of her nature.

An affectionate relationship of amusing irony.

A blue-coated cat with split tails disturbed the ground of curses.

It didn't matter how insignificant she was in comparison to all the others that started a similar search.

From generals of hosts of demons to manifested concepts, she was after all just a tale made manifest. A thieving cat that stole much more power than it should have to have its small moment in the limelight. A beautiful little trick, and there was no point in showing off that you tricked anyone. The entertainment of it was all in the fact that nobody noticed.So she was content being overlooked and ignored by those around her that saw her as but a tiny kindling next to infernos walking.

She didn't really want to start anything with any of them anyway. She was much more interested in something else. An amusing creature that accepted her. Someone stuck in destructive cycles just like she was. A hatred to all that faced her had been stilled by this creature...and so she had tried her best to still the hatred that that thing turned inward.

It is said that demons and humans pulled each other closer. But in their case, this would simply mean the creation of something utterly miserable, something that didn't find peace in any aspect of existence.

And yet she never felt that way in her presence. Her biggest reason for holding on to the belief that these beings really could change the order of all that is and was. The fact that these two flawed souls genuinely could heal each other...that had been the greatest display of power she had seen.

So she didn't need to gloat. She didn't need to show those higher on the rungs of the ladder how much she had grown from such a simple weakling.

All she needed right now was to find her beloved pet.

----

A familiar feeling.

She had been in touch with this before.

It almost felt...comfortable at this point. She had experienced its source and its eternal continuity.

This...too was a part of humanity. Something she had decided to shoulder in that moment of delusions of grandeur.

All of its curses.

There was no way for her to move.

She heard every muffled scream of the ones lacking consciousness.

This was it.

The rueful dawn at the end of the day. The penance for her hubris.

The scratching of a paw.

"I know you are tired, but you'll embarrass me in front of the whole family if you aren't going to move."

Light touched her eyes. Even as the choir still seemed to drag her into the abyss...

She rose from it.

It had been a while since she had seen her in this "form". It seemed the impact didn't pass her by without any scratches either...was she stuck like this? No, shape had always just been an afterthought to her...so why did she choose to be like this?

Skrrrr

Skrrrr

"Come on, everyones waiting."

There were two things that would obviously be more comfortable in this form.

One, digging.

And two, digging paws into a jacket worn by a human.

"...that's...you know, you kind of have a terrible attitude behind all that cutesy stuff."

These were the first words uttered by the failed savior upon entering...or perhaps returning...to the real world.